#ao’nung drabble | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyrrwrites · 1 year ago

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🩵 — 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Valentines Day spent with Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @missisaz @lauren1523 @deadgirlrin @faintfill @akariwe @honeycinnamon @dananannanana @aristocolourway @by-bananant @huahuagongzhu @xobridgertonblues @hungrynessforfics @innercreationflower @angie-1306 @cozybubble

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

a/n : part 2 !! I divided it for the reason being that if I United all 6 of these characters, it wouldn’t fit all the dividers/banners/pictures🥲🥲 These characters are a bit … less mention of Valentines unlike with Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak, and more so on the side of fluff and lovey dovey interactions with them if that makes sense? But I tried and I do hope you enjoy these !! Happy Valentines Day ! <33

Valentines Day with Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak !

— Ao’nung !

“You better watch those five fingered hands of yours when you touch my hair, eh? And do not over decorate it with those beads.” His snarl was anything but harsh, you’ve learned to distinguish between his tones — jesting, venomous, endearing even. You’ve learned to distinguish between his churlish temper he uses with your brothers and the edge of affection he overflowed when in your presence. The affection he conveyed in this moment, allowing it to give you permission in seeing him with his dark coils released from their notorious plaits and up-do while he is seated between your legs, cheek resting over your thigh while fiddling with your songcord. Both just to mess with you and to observe the fine piece.

He had picked you to partake in this for three reasons :

1. His fondness for your touch.

2. He had heard and seen the petite box of trinkets you had brought from the forest, and never found the perfect person to try them on besides him, and he was a tad bit intrigued to see how they’d look on himself, not aware of the ones you’ve made for him.

3. His hair needed a deep, meticulous cleanse and much narrowed rebraid.

“Ao’nung, shut up– stop moving, you skxawng! It would be easier if you didn’t move so often – why’d you even ask me if you’re going to act this way, huh?” He only let out an ‘annoyed’ huff but settled back into his spot. You’ve learned that it was uncommon for Ao’nung to let anyone else care for his hair, the only person ever permitted to was his young sister, Tsireya and his mother, Ronal for the reason being they were brisk with their movements, careful even with the consideration that he was a very tender headed thing. Of course, he’d never admit it to anyone, you included, though you already had the perception of this thanks to his sister and best friend, Rotxo.

To which is why his squirming came with no unrecognition, and internally wondered how is it that he’d given you the opportunity to touch his scalp after weeks of begging him, and why is it that he said his Mother had maintained to rest due to her pregnancy and his sister had been busy yet you had spotted Tsireya simply hanging out with Lo’ak? Why is it that out of nowhere, he approached you and tasked you whether you liked it or not? Why is it that his ears create a flickering motion with every attentive stroke you give his head?

“If I am hurting you, simply say so.” His neck canted back only to see your gold irises peering at him, concerned and punctured. “I don’t like to fully depend on these,” he hissed at the light pinch you gave his ear, “to see if you’re in pain. Speak up, okay?”

He muttered a ‘yes’ before his hand strayed to the beads around your ankle, beads he gifted you, flicking them slightly. He couldn’t help the tiny smile playing on his lips when he remembered gifting them to you, the way he felt his heart double its size the more he kept his gaze on you, so happy with that pretty wide smile, hoisting yourself on your toes and strutting around to let him see how the jewelry piece looked on you, and all he could think was that no piece of jewelry would ever add onto the immense beauty you already carried.

He had already embraced the fact of his liking for you, and wether you admitted it to him or not, he knew you reciprocated his feelings. It was probably obvious already, for the way your anger-less banters were constant, the way minor touches went by, the way he, and you, were always on the look out for one another, to have each other in sight. It gave him assurance, it gave him confidence, peace to see you. To be with you.

A silence overtook him and it slightly concerned you. Silence was not ordinary for Ao’nung, not when he was with you at least. But you didn’t say anything and continued to wash his hair, disentangle, apply the oils his Mother had entrusted you with, and entwine narrowed braids upon his scalp, creating a hair wrap on one twine. That is when you heard the sound his throat made and his shoulders slightly faltered from their broad posture from the air slowly rising from his lungs.

“I…do not entirely dislike the thought of it. Of you, near me, like this. I know that you won’t … hurt me…not with that small strength of yours anyway.” His chin lightly jutted down, and you grinned at the rare meekness edging his tone before he shifted to turn and bore those bright blue depths of his into yours, practically letting them swallow you whole the closer he inclined himself near your face.

Delicate were his features and somehow he managed to perfect the image of boldness and strength as he stared at you, as his long fingers reached with a gentleness he himself didn’t even recognize, curling over the curves of your knees.

“I respond to your touch because I do not dislike you, paysyul.” and there it was, that sly twist of his mouth and head tilt when you leaned forward, and as much as you wanted to roll your eyes at his expression, you didn’t dare avert from the portrait he displayed, the richness of his curls accentuating those lovely features he inherited.

“You like me then?”

He made a ‘tsk’ sound at your mocking use of voice, the flat of his nose tapping lightly against your own once, twice, three times, and the action induced a cute nose scrunch he’d grown accustomed to seeing on each Sully kid, yet yours was far more effective and gorgeous to him. “Is that not the opposite of unlike? Who is the skxawng now, eh?”

Before you can retort the name he had called you, his mouth pressed against yours, and your words disintegrate down your throat and pursed your lips at his stupidly appealing smirk.

“Now come on. Do not distract me with your kissing. You are not finished with my hair just yet. Or else this is the last time I let you—”

“I didn’t even ask you this time! And you kissed me!”

“But you were bound to—ow!” You smirked in triumph from the light tug you gave his hair, only for him to gain vengeance in pinching the skin of your ankle.

“I will stop, don’t tempt me.”

He glared and huffed like a child. “…Proceed. Please.”

After quite some time from braiding his head, with minor jesting banters here and there, you had finally finished; different shades of green and blue wraps and beads adorning those thick locks of his, and Ao’nung didn’t deny the proud smile he carried at your handy work, rewarding you with a playful tug on one of your braids and a swift kiss on the cheek before bolting into the water, away your smack.

— Tsireya !

“Do you…do you like it?”

Tsireya felt your heartbeat, racketing and soaring against the flat of her palm, your ilu creating a sound that indicated the distress you felt with every second passing of her silence. Her ears keenly picked up every inhale, the sharpness of the air slicing down your bobbing throat. You felt as she slowly descended from the ilu and gracefully swam through the water and to the land that resonated mere inches in front of you. You were quick to follow after her with a quick mutter of a ‘thank you’ to your new companion, your body lacking its stability in water from your fidgeting but managed to stand upon shore right across from you two.

Overtime, Tsireya learned that you were an impatient overthinker, and she had no doubt bursting conclusions now consumed that head of yours the longer she contemplated your question. With all the sincerity she held in her heart, she knew the answer already. Normally, she’d already grant it to you with so much enthusiasm, but something halted her from doing so. Awestruck she was, and it should have been evident from the way her sapphire irises glimmered, and the words she wished to say stayed trapped in her throat while one of her hands tightly held the small gift she had for you and the sun lily you’d gifted her with. The sun lily you happened to pick from the innumerable amount of glowing ones across the ground.

Your growing spiral of waiting made the guilt crawl within her, surrendering her body to release a soft exhale and give you an eager nod. “I adore it, ma tanhi.” Her pretty smile adorned with those dimples were enough to flare the ember stars within your eyes that resembled the nickname she’d given you and her smile widened. Your frozen demeanor thawed away when you reached for her hand, leading her deeper into the small-like forest.

A fort made of lengthy green leaves and stabled sticks entangled with lovely vines stood above both your laying forms. She’d never been surrounded by Pandora’s grassy plains, she’d never had the chance to visit farther than Awa’atlu for her People thought why would she ever want to leave her home when she has everything right where she is?

But the chance given and assisted by you was worth enough, because as your arms engulfed her cozily, she was reminded that this right here was everything she needed, was everything you needed.

The length of your blue arms tightened around her body as she laid atop of you, the elegant space between her shoulders becoming the spot your chin resided in. The roseate colors of her nose affectionately nuzzled across your cheekbone, and you grinned knowingly at how she traced the deep contoured markings etched into your complexion. You basked in the way her touch strayed to your hair, fingertips grazing over your braids and admiring how they were adorned with the jeweled spirals she had made for you, a trinket of a small shell dangling from it.

The purity of drifting into all of what one another was and will become came freely to you both; she allowed you to card your fingers through the long cascades of her curls as you styled them while she fiddled with the single twist swaying over your temple, and you’d occasionally ask if everything was to her liking. You loved to take care of her, you loved providing for her with nothing in return besides her grand love for you. You were hers, and you knew when the time came, when you had the blessing of her mother, the Tsahik and most importantly, Eywa’s, she was to be your mate, and you both eternally longed for that day.

Nestling her back against your chest eased her mind, and the ocean’s breeze ruffled through the night serenely, and your body only added onto that as your warmth embraced her. Her eyes rose to the fort’s canopy, smiling at the glittering beads woven within the vines.

Round hues shimmered and lit your heart up. A light kiss brushed your cheek and your eyes widened in surprise. Your broad grin soon followed however, stirring her insides, and you would admit that just by existing, she managed to stir your own heart.

“Would you like to see what I got you?” She giggled at the way your eyes widened and gave her a nod. “Yeah.”

Your eyes fell over a multilayered arm bracelet with beads, its colors having the familiar pattern your brother, Neteyam once wore. Though she didn’t want to emit tears, she knew the dam was bound to happen, tears pearling your lashes. “I know how high you thought of him and deeply you loved your brother. Your mama helped me recreate this, with the same beads he once wore.” The pads of your trembling fingers smoothed over each bead, each color that once and forever will symbolize Neteyam.

You kissed her cheek, then her lips with a soft laugh. “You are amazing, y’know that?”

“I wish to stay here, with you forever under this fortress. I really like the way you made this.”

You laughed once more, lips falling over her dimpled cheek and pulled her even deeper into you. “One day, we’ll have our own fortress and stay together forever, beautiful girl.”

“I see you, Y/N.” Everything you were, are, and bound to become will forever be eternally accepted by her soul. She leaned in to sweetly kiss you right before you could even return her words because she already knew, and there was something strong about already knowing.

— Rotxo !

You fell in love with one of the sweetest, most attentive and caring souls on the planet; Rotxo. Sweetest for the way he conveyed his immense love for you. Attentive, even when you think he doesn’t notice the smallest of things, from physical to emotional, or when your presence wasn’t anywhere near him; “Where is your sister? Where is Y/N? I thought she would be here?” And caring as to awareness of your well-being, of how you feel, of just wanting to smother you with his love and have you approach it as well.

That attentiveness and care was always right around the corner when he knew you needed it, or when he simply wanted to bathe you in his affections. A lace of thin beads ornamented your torso, glimmering and clashing astonishingly with your tones, a pretty shelled necklace sitting over your collarbones. The lace of beads and shelled necklace that happened to be made by Rotxo himself, along with the chest piece he had patched back together for you for when you were training on your ilu, it slightly tore. Rotxo never thought something too feminine or too masculine for anyone, so he didn’t pay no mind when his close friend, Ao’nung had teased him of making accessories and loincloths for you and ask him if he was comfortable with your height differences ( you were a tad bit taller than the Reef boy…tad) , or the way Lo’ak, your brother would make remarks of his ‘straightness’, and instead absorbed the way Tsireya would cheer him on, absorbed the way Kiri and Tuk would help him pick the best of pieces that suited their sister, absorbed how your oldest brother approved of him to be with you.

Proud he was to be able to make such things for you, and to be gifted with the way your face would brighten so prettily because of his acts. Rotxo thought the teasing he’d received had been so worth it as he watched you in amazement, a smile appealing his face. “Thank you, my sweet boy! Thank you, thank you!”

“It suits you, sevin. Very pretty…too pretty for me.” Your hands curl around his cheeks, mushing them slightly between your hold as he beamed up at you. “I am too pretty because of you. You add on to my prettiness. Just look at that face of yours!”

You adored the way his eyes crinkled crescent-like, the way the crystal blue brimmed from them before they disappeared behind closed eyelids, the way those lush lips smile so softly, so completely love-struck by you.

Your lower lip then so very subtly pronounced, and it was immediate the way his smile fell and the worry dawning upon him. “You say I’m too pretty for you when you’re too good for me.” Your fingers slid down his face and climbed up the nape of his neck before letting them stray into his bundle of thick locks. “You take very good care of me…you constantly gift me things. And while I adore it, it makes me feel bad for not keeping up with it–”

“But you do by gifting me with your time! –”

“Which is why I made you something!” You grinned at the way he tilted his head and one of his ears flitted against his head. His face contained intrigue while his tail very lightly moved. “Really? And what exactly did you make for me….?”

Quickly pecking his forehead, you pulled him by the arm near your family’s marui. “Wait here, okay?”

“Sevin, you did not have to get me anything—” He tried protesting though vehement glare dissolved his words; not taking no for an answer and he sighed. With a shrug and nod, you grinned and quickly rushed in and grabbed ahold of the gifts, returning with a wide smile that made his own form. “Give me your arm, love.”

He complied, head tilting as his brow line quirked. Your giggle reverberated through him when you slid the band with a blue sea glass stone up the length of his arm, stopping right above his bicep. “This stone glows under the night sky.” Another piece of jewelry was in your hold, three necklaces, similar in color to the single one you wore. “Each of the three carry the same beads you have used for me.”

His happiness was apparent despite the efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, a warmth erupting in his chest at your actions. The little squirm his mouth made did not go unnoticed by you when you told him about the beads. He finally gave in, a beam stretched across his face and you bathed in it as you clasped each necklace around his neck. “Sevin…irayo ( thank you ) Y/N!”

His soft sounds of giggles floated in your ears as firm pecks sweetly assaulted every part of his face and his arms winded around you. He took slight steps back, steps that soon became a full plummet of both your bodies into the water with a loud splash. You said nothing, simply stared at each other, damped with Awa’atlu’s waters, before giggling.

Your arms remained around his neck, hands reaching up and smiled softly at the way the wet wisps of his locks immediately curled around your digits.

“You, Rotxo, deserve many, many good things.” You reminded, tracing circles into his damp cheek with the pad of your thumb. “ I want you to know that I acknowledge everything you do for me. That I appreciate it. So thank you, my sweet boy, for all you do for me.”

His cheeks flushed at your words, throat closing in what could be seen as emotion and a soft laugh emitted from your throat as his head dipped into your neck. His fingertips brushing over the beads around you and a purr-like sound rumbling through his chest. A sound you felt to the center of your being, and crooned down at the smiling boy as he continued thanking you and holding you in his arms, promising to never discard these gifts you’ve given him ever, unaware of the 5 pair of eyes watching from afar.

…

“…I told you the beads he gave her were a good idea.”

“Ao’nung, shut up. I never doubted Rotxo for a second.”

“You thought he was gay, Lo’ak. Neteyam was most supportive.”

“Gross.”

“…they have been holding together for too long.”

“Kiri, Teyam, you’re gonna ruin the moment !!”

Meanwhile, Tsireya is carrying a wide smile while trying NOT to shed some happy tears for her dear friends.

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blue-slxt · 2 years ago

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ao’nung is frustrated.

at least, that’s what you’ve deduced from watching him sharpen his knife for the past ten minutes straight. if he keeps going, it might get as thin as a wish bone; threatening to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. as much as you’d find amusement in the sight of that, you’d rather not be in the crossfire when it happens.

“what’s got you caught in its net?” you ask, finally, as you drop the gear you’ve been mending while ao’nung simmers.

“funny,” he mutters, but mirth is not something found in his tone. another scrape, another grating. he does not look over at you.

“i know. i’m the funniest person alive. you should be grateful you have the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

it’s a ploy—a tease. like waving fresh bait in front of a young ilu but never tossing it into the water for them to eat. your tactic with ao’nung is always the same. push and pull and prod just enough that he bites back with less venom and more demure. because sarcasm is better than spite, in all regards.

except now, he doesn’t take it. now, he simply keeps his head tucked down, his lips pressed in a hard line. whittling at his knife and spouting invisible steam out of his ears.

you stand up, make your way over to him and bend slightly at the waist to slide your hands along his sloped shoulders. his muscles go taut—just a bit—at the initial contact of your palms, but relax a second later. not to their resting state, no, but leaving the field of caught off guard at the very least. you hum, lean down further as you dip your hands over his clavicles, across the upper half of his sternum.

“what is wrong, ao‘nung?” its sincere, this time. your question. because despite the dynamic between the two of you, you really do care—jokes and jabs aside.

this silence is different. you can tell by the twitch of his ears that he’s thinking; mulling something over on his tongue before he decides whether to spit it out or swallow it down. you can never guess which one it will be, not with him. he acts on whims, never strategy. there is no speculating his next move, so you simply don’t try to.

“there has been talk among the reef.” it’s all he says; all he gives. such a shell of a man, forcing you to pry open his jaws to reach the pearl within.

it is good that you’ve always been so skilled with your hands.

“there is always talk among the reef,” you chuckle, begin to fiddle with the necklace that’s strung around his neck. hooking your chin over the top of his head, you look down to watch as he grinds his knife once again. “you know they like to keep their minds busy with silly things.”

“it isn’t a silly thing.”

“oh? then tell me, what is so dire that it could have the great ao’nung this tense, hm?”

his hands falter for the first time, a pause in his rhythmic grazing. your brows furrow at that, create a hairline crease in the middle that only smooths out as he resumes his motions. scrape, scrape, scrape again. it’s like he’s doing it in sync with his heart. if you shifted your hand over just a tad, you suppose you could test that theory.

“it is talk of you.”

quiet. a mere grumble under his breath. if you were not leaned over him like this you would not have even heard him. such an odd twinge to his tone; laced with something you can’t quite decipher. can’t quite pick up on. it isn’t necessarily anger, but something flirting along the lines of it.

“me? don’t tell me you have went around spreading rumors that i am possessed by eywa’s evil sister again. i thought you stopped that when we were kids.” you laugh through it, because the jagged edges of his timbre are making your fingers itch. “you’re going to ruin my reputation.”

he scoffs. condescending, dismissive. normally you’d take that as a good sign; a call back to his regular grating demeanor. at this specific moment, however, you find annoyance in it.

“your reputation is fine,” he tilts, gives a particularly harsh press of his knife that makes you think this just might be the time where it snaps. miraculously, it doesn’t. “so completely fine.”

“then what could they possibly find reason to speak of me for?” you press, rubbing your thumb over the cord of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. “i have not caused any trouble lately. haven’t set fire to any maruis. why, there’s nothing that i can think of that could possibly warrant—“

“they speak of your lack of mate.”

his hands are working harder, less refined. jaw clenching, deltoids growing stiff below you. it’s all starting to air itself out, his jaws have cracked open just enough that you can finally see the pretty pink pearl that rests on the bed of his tongue. but it is not enough, not yet.

“then all they speak is the truth,” you shrug over him, keep your gaze locked on his movements. you want to be sure, before you jump to the assumptions that are creating hurdles in your mind. “there is no harm in speaking of public knowledge.”

“they—“ he hitches, twists his face up like his next words are sour on his tastebuds, “they are voicing their thoughts on potentials for you. they think.. rotxo is the best option.”

“oh, yes. rotxo would be a fine potential mate.”

and, ah. there it is. the coup de grace.

ao’nung snaps his head around towards you so fast you hardly have time to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the chin by his skull. there’s a fissure between his brows, his eyes have widened past the aggravated slits they were before. his mouth is cracked open in disbelief, of the fact that you agreed with him or another matter, you aren’t sure. either way, it is clear now what has been getting under the heir’s skin.

he's jealous. and you can't help but find that the slightest bit amusing. it's not often you have ao'nung in the palm of your hand like this; akin to a bug squirming under the pad of your thumb with no clear route of escape. you think you can play this up, just a little.

"you do not think that," he states, like he needs to speak it into existence. like if he says it then it will ring true, change your mind.

(he doesn't need to change your mind, but he doesn't need to know that right now).

"why would i not?" you hum, tip your head like you're truly contemplating it. "he is sweet. has a tender heart. and he is always so quick to help me. he doesn't even complain. i think taking him as a mate would be a good decision."

"the only thing good about rotxo is his hair," ao'nung spouts, rolls his eyes at you as his face fills up with indignation. "stupid, pretty boy goody two shoes."

"oh, you're right! and he's nice to look at," you agree, nod your head right along with it, "how could i forget?"

his cheek dips; he's sucking it in between his teeth. you've really done it, you think. setting him off has never been so easy. sure, it’s never too hard to get him riled up in the middle of a bickering match. but like this? aggravated over, what, exactly? the thought of you with someone else?

maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

“he is not your type.” a bold proclamation, ao’nung spits out. grasping for straws; searching blindly. “you would not go well with him.”

“i think he is my type, actually,” you dispute, and he’s stopped all his movements now. knife long forgotten as he seethes over every word you speak. “kind. loyal. good morals. easy on the eyes. yes, definitely my type. that checks off the list.”

he purses his lips, knots up his brows. “that cannot be the list.”

“no?” you peruse, play into him. he makes this too easy, really. “what do you think is on the list, then? moody? messy? long hair? a tendency to be mouthy? being the chief’s son?”

that earns you a shove off of him; a click for him to realize you’ve been fucking with him this entire time. biting back your shit eating grin would be impossible so you don’t even try to. nor do you stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as he goes back to his knife work and curses you under his breath.

you reach for him again except this time you walk around until you’re in front of him. one hand on his shoulder, you lean down to shove the knife and sharpener out of his hands and plop yourself right into the slot his crossed legs have made. his gaze is narrowed at you, his lips jutted. you simply smile—innocent, sweet—as you slide your hands around to cup the nape of his neck.

“i don’t think rotxo could handle me,” you murmur, sickeningly saccharine in such a direct contrast from seconds before. ao’nung doesn’t budge. “and the good ones are always so boring. if he was my mate, when would i ever get the chance to get up to trouble?”

“you are trouble,” ao’nung scoffs; acting annoyed, fed up. but his hands give him away as they meet the dimples of your lower back, as they slide up your spine to hold you secure so you don’t fall backwards.

his facade of pretending to not care has never been too full proof. there’s been cracks in that glass since day one.

“your trouble,” you grin. your fingers begin to draw circles along the back of his neck, tease at his hairline. “you made me this way, you know.”

“i made you nothing,” he rebuts. “you are the one who always comes up with the pesky ideas that get us scolded.”

“ah, you’re right,” you agree with a faux sigh. “humor and brains. i guess i’m the funniest and smartest person alive. truly, you should be honored.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, peels his hands off of you. “forget ability, i do not wish to handle you now. rotxo can have you, for all i care.”

“oh?” you quirk, begin to stand up. “should i go see what he is up to—“

“sit,” ao’nung orders before you can rise no more than a few inches off of his lap; hands gripping your waist to tug you back down. the playfulness drains from his eyes, that annoyance—jealousy—flashes across sea foam irises for just a moment. “you are not funny.”

you bite the edge of your lip, making your grin turn slanted. he is so fun to tease, to toss around. his palms are warm on the dip of your waist. sliding your hands further back, you skim your finger along the side of the braid encasing his queue. faint, light. he tries to hide the shiver it causes but you pick up on it regardless. and that only makes you grin wider.

“they will speak of me until i choose a mate,” you hum as you lean closer to him, minimize the distance between your faces. “rotxo is not the only name that will be paired with mine. they all like to place their bets, you know.”

“their bets are stupid,” ao’nung mutters; gruff and rumbling out of his chest as his attention flickers, falters, the closer you get.

being this close is nothing new. being this touchy is nothing new, either. but it’s almost like your skin is buzzing, your energies feeding off one another in the moment that sends you tumbling into a smug streak. or maybe, that’s just the power ao’nung holds over you and you’re scared to admit it.

“you only think they’re stupid because your name is being outnumbered in the betting pool.” maybe that’s a little mean, but it’s fun. your fingertips are heavier now, more directed as you trace the divots of his braid with one hand and gauge the rise and fall of his chest with the other. “if you were winning, would they be stupid then?”

“i am winning,” ao’nung conveys, so sure and lacking any sense of doubt in the slightest; a variance from a few moments before. and that, well, that actually makes you falter—for just a second.

“and how do you figure that?” you mumble out the question into the minute slot between the two of you. bated and breathy.

ao’nung hooks an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up to grip the hinge of your jaw. not harsh, not rough, but firm. cradling you carefully but securely; solidly. your breath hitches, your fingers pause on their skimming across his queue encasing.

“because i am the only one who gets to do this,” he says. blunt and honest and certain as he closes the gap severing you.

he kisses you full and deep and warm. he kisses you like he has not eaten in days and you are the one thing that can sate his hunger. he kisses you like the ocean kisses the shore; yearning and all consuming, and rushing back once more as soon as their lips must part.

and he does; chase your lips as you pull back to catch your breath. places one, two, three pecks there before he deems it a safe retreat. his eyes are lidded, but no longer from frustration. that signature crooked, haughty smirk of his is curved into his pale lips. and instead of smacking it off, you’re considering how many more kisses it would take to wipe it away.

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, lips brushing over yours as he’s already leaning in again. “so winning.”

and you can’t help but agree.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#ao’nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x you #aonung x you #ao’nung drabble

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neteyamyawne · 2 years ago

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╰ ₊Ao'nung - Are you some kind of freak? ꒱༉‧₊

-‘๑’- Key Genres

◦ | Romance - ◈ | Platonic - ❈ |

◦ | Na'vi!Reader - 𑁍 | Human!Reader - ❁ | Avatar!Reader - ֍ |

◦ | Daughter!Reader - ꕥ | Gn!Reader - ꨄ︎ | Pregnant!reader - ❀ |

◦ | Request - ☁️ | Non-request - 🌱|

-‘๑’- One shots

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Two Shots

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Drabbles

Later Sessions - [ ✯ + 𑁍 + ◈ + ☁️ ] ft. Neteyam

Ao'nung and Neteyam give you a sweet and delightful lesson after your swimming sessions with them and they can be quite the trouble...

Shh... Quiet - [ ✯ + 𑁍 + ◈ + ☁️ ]

Your subby Little boyfriend is desperate to be your mate, even while you fuck him mercilessly without a break, he still wants you too be his forever.

-‘๑’- Head-Canons

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

-‘๑’- Series

➺ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ...

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plooto · 2 years ago

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imagine being fucked so dumb that you just cannot form words, so you have to use the metkiyanan sign language to speak 🤧

#jake sully x reader #atwow ao’nung x reader #lo’ak x reader #rae’s tiny thoughts 💭 // drabbles #neteyam x reader

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wheneclipsefalls · 8 months ago

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Tawtute Sickness (A Precious Drabble)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

This one shot is from the Precious series. It can be read alone but reading the Precious origin story gives a better experience and context.

Summary: There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit talk of menstruation, talk of blood, hormones, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, dominant Ao'nung, interspecies relationship, aged up Ao'nung, crying, self doubt, insecurity, protective Ao'nung, swearing, PMS, sexual themes, etc.

A/N: This is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Adult Ao'nung pic by @cinetrix

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled.

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here.

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before.

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards.

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male.

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams.

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings.

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies.

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition.

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure.

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard.

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight.

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water.

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants.

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.”

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him.

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going.

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together.

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties.

A beat of silence ensues.

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation.

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered.

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence.

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition.

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop.

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked.

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard.

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace.

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation.

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning.

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well.

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open.

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out.

“Stop struggling.” He growls.

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it.

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place.

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully.

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human.

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down.

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles.

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence.

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks.

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way.

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears.

And you wish you could.

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope.

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed.

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly.

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear] And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him.

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away.

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly.

“What?”

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully.

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.”

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey.

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.”

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home.

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv.

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him.

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.”

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips.

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words.

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours.

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish.

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover.

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers.

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts.

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

“Do better at what?”

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.”

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties.

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me (anonymous or not).

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